Chesterbury Tales Pt. 08bysarahloveitt©
It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities. The Host had told of the birthday orgy involving a current top film star, and the Theatre Company Manager of her oral exploits with a famous actor. Fantasies involving nuns and priests had also been acted out.
Chapter Eight - The Marketing Director's Tale
On the second day, after dinner, the guests moved into the warm lounge with its blazing log fire and subdued lighting. Anne and Mary, scantily clothed, poured coffee and liqueurs as Julie came into the centre of the group.
'Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks as though were here for some time yet. So, now you're all settled, our story this evening is from Martin, who is going to tell us about a smooth-taking lecher whose elaborate plans to seduce his secretary were foiled.'
Martin, an international marketing director for a food company, was a quiet fair haired man with good strong features, large blue eyes, straight nose and square chin. He was of average build but not yet running to fat and very aristocratic-looking. At thirty-two, he seemed average in other ways, having a perfectly straight and sturdy six inch penis. Unfortunately, he wasn't always able to control his discharge which often resulted in a generous flow of oozing semen, long before the climax hit him.
But he enjoyed a lavish international life style, often seen in national society magazines with his attractive Television presenter wife, Delia. With her winning smile and attractive blonde features, she was a photographer's dream. Her calm exterior and imperious bearing, head held high with a tendency to look down her nose, gave her a slightly superior air. In spite of the media exposure, they had remained married for longer than most celebrities.
Delia often claimed to her friends that half the male population masturbated in front of her when she was on screen, splattering their TV with sperm! Camera crews drooled over her and fellow presenters tried to chat her up. But she kept aloof, private and mysterious, only letting herself go among trusted friends.
Martin came forward and sat in the storyteller's armchair adjacent to the fireplace with his coffee and brandy which he set on a table at the side of him. He told this story.
Edward never acknowledged the name Ted. He ignored anyone who called him by that name. He had been christened Edward, and that was his name. Not Ted, nor Ed, nor Eddie. Edward. He was thirty-five, had fair, wavy hair, his only facial blemish - if indeed it was one - being a slight cast in his right eye. He spoke softly and carefully with a slight nasal tone, meticulously cultivated to impress the American directors of the company for which he worked.
Edward had a sumptuous office. He sat at a large desk devoid of papers except for those he was currently working on. In the top right-hand drawer, he kept a yellow duster to keep the desk-top spotlessly clean and free from dust. His three telephones, one red, one white and one black, were on a side table to his left.
Ever since he was told by an American psychologist over dinner one evening that to use the left ear made a person respond more crisply and more intelligently than if they used the right ear, he used only his left ear when speaking on the phone.
He always dressed immaculately in a dark grey suit made-to-measure in the West End, a white silk shirt with gold cufflinks and a light grey tie. A carefully arranged white silk handkerchief was tucked in the top pocket of his jacket. His aftershave was the latest vogue in men's perfumery.
Edward's personal secretary - not private secretary, but a personal one - sat at a desk outside his office. Delia was a strikingly beautiful girl of twenty years. In fact, she was a remarkable lookalike of Grace Kelly. Her blonde hair was swept back into a bun without a stray hair to be seen. Edward wouldn't have allowed it. Her eyes were a bright blue and her skin clear and fresh looking.
She was a serious-looking girl, though. Not that she had any serious thoughts, it was more of a blank expression, reflecting the state of her mental activity. Delia had that serene appearance of purity and innocence. It was one of Edward's ambitions to seduce Delia. And, since he almost always got what he wanted, he was prepared to wait, taking great care with his planning.
He planned his campaign of Delia's seduction as he would market a new product. He had already taken Delia to lunch at expensive restaurants on several occasions. On these occasions the other diners would turn to admire the beautiful lady as she came into the dining room. Several would, no doubt, believe that they had dined in the same restaurant as Grace Kelly, telling their friends all about it that same evening.
Delia was, of course, perfectly aware of what Edward was after. She was, in fact, rather surprised that he hadn't yet invited her into his bed. Delia, however, didn't fancy Edward at all. Had she done so, she would have opened her legs for him long ago. But she just didn't fancy him.
For a start, he was too pernickety. Perhaps, if he should invite her to accompany him on one of his exotic visits abroad, she might think about getting into his bed as recompense. Though with Edward, she thought, sex would be too much of a hassle. He would give me a performance just to show off his sexual prowess.
On the Friday evening, ten days before Delia's first Christmas working for Edward, the company held its staff party. A catering company had been retained to provide a first class buffet meal with a well-stocked bar. Wine and ale would flow freely. A dance band had also been hired for the evening with entertainment by a well-known comedian.
The large area was lavishly embellished with miles of decorations, a large Christmas tree at each end of the room and, around it, several smaller ones festooned with trimmings and tree-lights. Tables were arranged round the room, leaving a sizable dancing square in the centre. Boyfriend, girlfriend and spouses were invited to the party, but most of the staff came on their own to see what spare male, or female, talent might be available for a spot of flirting. About a hundred and fifty people were expected.
It so happened that Edward was in America, not expected to return until Sunday. Because Delia had no current boyfriend, and knowing how she would be pestered if she went singly, she had decided not to go to the party. Her mother said it would be a shame to miss out on such a lavish party. So, if Delia wished to go, she would be pleased to go along as her guest and chaperon. Besides, it would be a welcome night out for her as well. After some hesitation, Delia said OK, so it was agreed.
Now, Delia's mother, Alison, was born in Bath. She was such a beautiful lady with a graceful figure and refined looks that most men thought her frigid and untouchable. How looks can lie! Alison had had two husbands, but had been far from a faithful wife. Her sex drive was too high-powered for that.
Alison's second husband had found her too demanding, leaving her to live a quiet life in a small bachelor flat. Like Chaucer's Wife of Bath before her, with the same name, whose exploits she had read, Alison's sexual boredom factor was low.
'Alas, alas, that ever love was sin!' She believed that it would be wrong to fight her basic personality. So she hunted and seduced where she felt desire. Following the example of her esteemed predecessor, she called her genitals her quoniam. An uglier word than vagina, perhaps, but more mysterious and erotic; or so she thought.
Having reached the age of forty-two her appetite for sex was greater than it had ever been in her life, which meant that she just couldn't get enough. Her quoniam constantly ached for attention, getting insufficient to keep its fire slaked. So she determined to have a good time at the party and, if she could, seduce a young, clean, virile man.
Alison and Delia made a stunning pair of extremely beautiful, sophisticated ladies. Even the taxi driver, usually immune to sights such as these, was overcome by their beauty. When they arrived outside the company's offices in Waterloo Place, there was already much activity. A doorman came to open the door of the taxi for the two beauties as Delia paid the cabby before hurrying to the entrance.
At the top of the staircase leading down to the reception area was the ladies' cloakroom. After touching up their make-up and hair arrangements, they went down to the reception area, clutching their matching evening handbag.
The Managing Director, Bernard Hathaway-Jones, and the Marketing Director, David Lutyens, were clearly impressed by the sight of two exquisitely beautiful ladies approaching them. It took David a second or two to recognise Delia with her flowing blonde hair, but he greeted her with much warmth and courteous enthusiasm.
Her mother was introduced, being received by both men with much effusive admiration. David was particularly attentive, escorting them to his personal table, saying that he would join them for a drink shortly. Meantime, he beckoned over a waiter, ordered two glasses of chilled champagne, two bottles of Moet et Chandon to be put into ice buckets and three glasses.
David had always lusted after Delia. She was the most attractive of the secretaries amongst his London staff. Tonight, he thought, she looked sensational. David was in his late thirties, estranged from his South African wife, and the son of a colonial baronet. His slim, athletic figure was kept in trim with a half-hour workout each morning.
He was glad Edward's not here he decided, as he returned to the reception area where Bernard, now in his paunchy fifties, was overwhelmed by the two gorgeous-looking, self-assured women.
'Wish I was a bit younger, by Jove, eh, David? I would certainly fancy my chances there!'
The younger man smiled at his boss. He'd never heard him express any views about women, or indeed sex, before. 'Bernard! Surely you're not passed it yet!'
'Certainly not, old boy! But the ladies think I am!' He lowered his voice. To tell the truth, old boy, I'm reduced to having to pay for a bit of enjoyment these days!' He barked with laughter.
As the waiter brought the glasses of champagne with an ice-bucket with two bottles, Alison and Delia were approached by two young men from the personnel staff, well-known to Delia, who invited them to dance. The room was getting noisy and hot, already fairly full of rocking couples.
Alison was well pleased with the stir she was creating among the men. They turned heads to look at her, wondering who this beautiful lady could possibly be. Alison thought that she might well encourage the young man by pressing herself closer to him and holding him a little tighter than necessary during the slow footrot. He smiled warmly at her.
She returned the smile. A slight stirring in the front of his trousers reassured her that he was interested in more than just dancing with her.
Returning to the table after the dance, Delia and her dancing partner had already got there. David had also arrived, and the champagne was being poured. After inviting the two young men to join them, two more men came up to ask Delia to be introduced to her charming companion.
One of them, Jack, was David's assistant whilst the other, James, was a merchandising manager. The two ladies had no sooner joined in the general toast of 'Cheers!' with a sip of champagne than they were whisked away for a dance by the two newcomers where they enjoyed yet more flattery and attention.
Bill was Alison's new dancing partner who explained that he worked in another of the marketing departments. Alison promised to take a look his product display later in the evening, they rejoined David's table.
Delia and Alison had, by this time, five attractive men paying them attendance, taking it in turn to dance with first one, then the other. The men were, by this time of course, slightly tipsy and becoming rather impertinent, when dancing, making immodest comments to the ladies about their outstanding figures.
As the evening wore on the dancing partners became bolder, holding the ladies closer, stroking their bottoms as casually as they could. Neither lady objected to this attention. After all, most of the other dancers were doing the same.
Alison made up her mind to screw David's brains out before the end of the evening, whatever else she did. She was conscious of his swelling, prominent beneath his evening trousers, though not fully erect, pressing into her groin. One of his hands was stroking the bare flesh between her shoulder blades in a provocative way.
She casually rubbed her groin against his as they danced together provoking a responsive jerking in his trousers. Alison looked up at him smiling sweetly.
'Oh dear! What have I done?'
'I think you have a pretty good idea, you tease. We may have to leave the dance floor for a quiet drink to give time for it to subside.'
Alison pouted her lips. 'Oh, what a shame. It felt quite interesting. She pressed herself hard against him so that she could distinctly feel his stiffness pushing against her belly. 'That's nice, but naughty!'
'I like being naughty, don't you?'
'Oh yes, I just adore it. Can we be naughty together, do you think?'
David looked at her quizzically. 'Not here, and not just now. Perhaps after supper. I'll think of something.'
Delia was no less in demand, enjoying a similar piece of teasing as her mother. Poor Jack was red with embarrassment when Delia pressed herself against his hardness as they danced together. She gave him a sympathetic smile. 'Don't worry, Jack, it's just the natural lusty male reaction. It's easier for me. You can't feel my enthusiasm quite so easily.' After a pause she added, 'I can feel it though!"'
Jack was encouraged by this. 'How about if I feel it for myself?'
Delia giggled. 'You mischievous thing! Certainly not!' She ground her belly into his swelling adding 'Well, not just now, anyway! Later perhaps!'
She was enjoying teasing the men tonight who had all reacted properly if stiffly.
So far, she thought, James has got the stiffest though David's seems to be the biggest! Poor men, she mused, they can't get turned on without it being obvious.
Before sitting down for supper, with soaked knickers, Delia excused herself to go to the powder room to dry herself. Her mother joined her for a similar reason. They both had a good laugh together comparing the various states of the stiff male members they had pressed up against. Both agreed that they were having fun.
Teasing's OK, but I don't intend going any further, mother. I mean! Think of me having to face the staff on Monday if I did! These things soon get round, you know. Men can't keep a confidence of that sort.'
Her mother smiled in sympathy. 'You'll not be the only one. I expect there'll be other blushing secretaries come Monday.'
During the meal, Alison sat next to David. She asked him nonchalantly where his office was saying that she would like the chance to see round the executive floor. David explained that he would have to pop into the offices later to check the teleprinter for messages. Perhaps she would like to accompany him?
His voice was matter of fact but his intentions were clear to her. He was aroused at the prospect of exploring the warm secret between Alison's warm thighs. Alison smiled at him with a slight nod of acceptance, unobtrusively reaching under the table cloth into David's lap, to squeeze the swelling she felt in his groin. She was heartened by the splendid shape she felt beneath his fabric of his trousers.
Delia, who sat on other side of David and next to James, also understood the significance of the overheard invitation, noticing the slight movement of her mother's arm underneath the table. She knew what her mother was up to. Delia announced offhand that she had expected a message earlier in the day from Edward, which may have arrived after she had left the office early to get ready for the party. She would need to go and check shortly, she told James sweetly, smiling at him sympathetically. She stroked his thigh softly, each stroke taking her fingers closer to the bulge of his already stiff penis straining at the fabric. Delia gently traced its outline being rewarded with a responding jerk. She patted his bulge affectionately, smiling at him before removing her hand in case his enthusiasm overflowed inside his trousers.
When, after coffee and cognac, Brian and Bill left the table to visit the toilets, David suggested showing Alison the executive office suite.
'We'll come with you.' Delia announced, as she got up she pulled James to his feet. 'Come on, James. We're taking a walk. Excuse us, Brian.'
The four left the room to just round the corner where a lift was already waiting. They went to the fifth floor, stepping out into the deep pile carpet of the executive suite. There was a deep silence. Widely spaced low-wattage emergency lights were the only lights, augmented by street lamps shining in through the windows. This was enough light for Alison to absorb the elegance and luxury of the office area. All four crossed the darkened reception area in silence. Delia unlocked Edward's office suite.
As soon as they got into the room, Alison stepped to the front of the Guy Rogers sofa. Wasting no time, she turned to face David, took him in her arms with a deep intake of breath, and kissed him passionately. Her tongue prised his lips apart and explored his hot mouth; one hand stroked the back of his head, fingers feverishly snaking through his hair, the other pulling his waist close to hers.
By the time Delia had closed the door behind them and turned round, her mother was already in an ardent embrace with David. She hadn't expected her mum to get involved with her daughter around. But Alison's hands were already smoothing over David's shoulders, removing his jacket which she threw over a chair.
His belt went next whilst Alison crushed her tongue passionately into his mouth. Although a bit taken aback by the sudden assault, David responded by stroking his hands sensuously down her back. Finding the top of a zip-fastener, he unfastened her gown down to the cleavage of the luscious cheeks of her bottom.
As Alison shrugged away the gown, her naked breasts sprang into view. She stepped back, the gown falling to her ankles, to reveal her black lace French knickers and silk stockings held up by scarlet garters. The gown kicked to one side, she stumbled back into David's waiting arms with an animal growl of lust.
David clutched her loose breasts pressing himself into her, rubbing the hardened nipples in his palms. Alison reached between their bodies, unfastened the waistband of his trousers, and pushed them impatiently over his hips, down to his knees. Her thumbs hooked into the top of his underpants, dragging them down his thighs, sliding down his body at the same time to kneel in front of him.
She was getting desperate! Couldn't wait for it! Alison was impatient to see it, to kiss it, to nuzzle it, feel it penetrating her. His powerful penis sprang out in front of her eyes!
Moaning greedily, Alison gazed at the proud object of her lust, with its swarthy stiffness and tracery of thick veins. She noticed the slight upward bend in it as she took the beautiful, all-powerful staff in one hand, cradling his heavy balls in the other. What strength and power in these, she thought, drawing the bulbous head towards her mouth. A droplet of liquid had already oozed from the eye of his manhood.
After peeling the foreskin over the pronounced purple ridge she ran her tongue around it, kissing the tip in homage to the plaything about to pleasure her. The gusset of her French knickers were frenziedly unbuttoned with her other hand, desperate to fill her quoniam with this powerful stranger. She fell backwards into the sofa pulling David down on top of her, guiding his stiffness to the portals of her wet quoniam.